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May flowers

May 16th. Half the month is gone. At my house, it is the month of my red tulips blooming, blue forget-me-nots are crowding the tulips and lavender Iris are showing color. Into this setting came my two-year-old great grandson with an eye for pretty things. Last year he was caught on camera in his grandmother’s flowers and Ginny Merett painted his picture.

This year he was caught again on camera, only in my garden. He seamlessly worked his way on the stepping stones to hover near the ground like a dragonfly and stared intently at a forget-me-not.

I think, we as writers may learn something from this example. In a years’ time, this young boy’s desire to stare at pretty blossoms as not diminished. In this same time period has your love of writing dimmed? If so, are you staring at it hard enough? Are you plotting a path in your story by stepping on one stone at a time? Do you appreciate the rhythm of the words you put together like how a sprig of tiny blue flowers hang on one stem? Coherent and depending on the seed it sprung from? If not take a sunny afternoon and stare at the intricacies of delicate flower faces.